


Unspoken Agreement

by equilateral_asshat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Archived From My Tumblr, F/M, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equilateral_asshat/pseuds/equilateral_asshat





	Unspoken Agreement

They never had to say anything to one another, because they already knew the answers.

Pacifica and Dipper had tried dating, one Summer when they were both seventeen, but it had fallen flat. They never seemed to mesh very well. He was more down to Earth, she was still for all intent a bit of a spoiled rich girl. Their tastes varied wildly, whether it was food, or entertainment, or hobbies. The one area they seemed to fit together in, ironically enough, was the bedroom.

From their very first time to every other time they ever got behind closed doors, things would happen naturally, wordlessly. They simply came together into one being, a fluid dance of lust and desire. Even after they had agreed to break up, they would at times meet for another tryst.

It was usually started by one texting the other, saying they needed to talk to them. Hilarious, Pacifica thought, because they rarely did any talking. Either she would come to find him, or he would appear at her door, and before long they were grabbing at one another with reckless abandon. Last night had been no different.

She had asked him to come over. Nothing more, nothing less, but they both knew what she was after. He agreed without hesitation, shortly materializing on her doorstep. She let him in, and as soon as the door was closed, they were on each other.

Time had been kind to Dipper Pines. His shoulders squared out, and he grew to a respectable height, an inch or two shy of six feet tall. While no longer noodle-armed, he wasn’t ripped either; rather, he had developed a wiry strength, arms and chest defined without being outright bulging with musculature. His face was usually beset with stubble, and it had been no different on that night, a five o’clock shadow covering his cheeks, chin and upper lip.

Pacifica, of course, had also grown into her own. Her status in life demanded she stay presentable, and thus years of tennis, mini golf and other sports kept her fit. She had never gotten as curvy as his sister, Mabel, which left another longstanding rivalry to linger, but she had not become soft as the female Pines twin, either. She too had aged into a fit frame, a slight hint of abs present along her stomach, and her thighs muscular.

The second Dipper’s lips found her neck, her breath hitched in her throat. He had discovered that particular spot years ago, on one of their first entanglements, and had never forgotten it. While his lips sucked at her soft skin, his hands snaked their way under her shirt, peeling it away from her frame as rough fingers explored. With a shiver, she lifted her arms, and his lips left her neck that he might finish disrobing her.

Once she was free of the garment, they were on each other again. Her hands hooked behind his neck and she leapt, legs snaking around his waist smoothly. He caught her, barely flinching with the movement. It was like it had always been, as if the maneuver had been rehearsed, or planned. But that was how it had always been, the two of them never needing to speak. They simply knew what to do, how to get the other going.

While the two furiously kissed at one another, Dipper blindly navigated the way to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind himself without a single peep. He dropped her on the bed, which got little more than a giggle and purr from the blonde. Reaching up, she swiftly undid the buttons of the plaid shirt he always wore, revealing the light layer of chest hair beneath. Her fingers ran over the patch with appreciation, his shoulders twisting as he worked to remove the shirt. Once he was freed from its grasp, fingers hooked under his chin, effortlessly tugging him down to join her on the bed.

Eventually, as it always was, the encounter went from making out, to the two grinding against one another. It was never clear who would initiate the start of it, but one way or another, things led down that particular path. The moment she could feel him, feel what she did to him through their clothing, her motor went from idle into the red. She knew how to get him going, which in turn got her going as well.

Pants were lost to the floor, as was a skirt, and any undergarments. His mouth latched onto a nipple, drawing a pleased hiss from his lover. She ran her nails along his scalp, humming her approval of his actions, other hand sneaking downwards to rub along his newly exposed nether region. She had done this dozens of times before, and could probably, by now, identify him blindfolded by the curve, and the way the veins along its surface stood out when he throbbed.

Before either of them even asked or suggested it, he had positioned himself, and suddenly her vision clouded over, eyes rolling back as she was full of him. The first thrust was always the same; slow, agonizing, teasing until hips met backside with a grind. He pressed his forehead to hers, groaning as she squeezed against his length. He would counter it with a short, slow thrust, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. Back and forth this would continue, until they were lost in a chorus of moans and whimpers, accompanied by the rhythm of flesh meeting flesh, time and again.

Pacifica relished these moments. It was in these instances that she got to experience what they never had any other time, what they would never have, it seemed. In these moments they were as one. They didn’t fight, or disagree on anything. They both simply knew what needed to happen and when, never second guessing their own actions, or each others. To be any more in tune, they would have to be permanently fused together. She wondered if Dipper felt the same way, but already knew the answer.

The way he would suck in a breath through clenched teeth when her nails trailed up his back, or how the growl that hung in his throat rumbled when she bit into his shoulder told her that he very much felt the same. Inevitably, as he always did, he soon flipped her over, hands finding her hips, lap finding her backside. She squealed, always reveling in just how perfect his timing was in these encounters.

As much as they both enjoyed these times, this connection in this act, they both felt invariably saddened at the same time. This was the only time they fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle. Or, no, more like traffic on a freeway exit, where the ramps both on and off of the stretch of road converged, with two lines of traffic coming together like a zipper. They were each in separate vehicles, merging into one lane for this brief moment, before their lives would pull apart again.

This train of thought left the station as a hearty slap of thighs-to-thighs snapped her out of her daydream, her toes curling as she deathgripped her sheets. He was getting closer, he always started to go harder the closer he got. She always seemed to edge dangerously near the edge of her climax when he started to pound, her midsection tense with anticipation.

He never even bothered to announce his own, anymore. He would simply cram his body to hers, the curve of her back falling into place against his chest and stomach, his chin hooked over her shoulder. She writhed under him, the sensation of his own climax sending her into her own, a hushed wail of pleasure emitted into her pillows. They stayed like this for what felt like an eternity, eventually collapsing onto their sides, still spooned together.

In the morning, she was roused from her silent slumber by the sounds of him rustling about, looking for pieces of his outfit that had gone flying about in their moment of passion. She sat up, stretching with a noisy yawn. They would catch each others eye, and a dreadful silence would hang in the air as they mentally wrestled with their own thoughts.

Why couldn’t they always be like this? Why didn’t they try to give a relationship another shot, to do anything but simply meet up for a random, intense fuck and then go their separate ways yet again? She felt tears well up in the corners of her eyes as they broke their stare together, Dipper silently leaving the apartment.

They never had to say anything to one another, because they already knew the answers…


End file.
